“What on earth are you doing here?” the Fat Lady demanded.

“Open up,” Snape snarled.

“Not likely,” she replied haughtily. “Run along, little Slytherin.”

“I’m not a student any longer, you idiotic scrawl. I am the Head of Slytherin House and the school’s Potion Master, and I want to speak with one of my students. Now open up!”

“Shan’t,” she retorted airily.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Open up or I will –“

Just what Snape would have done was never made clear, as at that moment, the portrait opened and a third year Gryffindor started to step out. Finding his way blocked by the looming form of everyone’s least favorite professor, he squeaked in terror and fell backwards.

“A model Gryffindor,” Snape sneered. “Byerly, go fetch Potter.”

“I – I – yes, sir!” Byerly managed to gasp out, then raced away. The Fat Lady tried to close the entrance, but Snape seized hold of the portrait frame and held it open.

In a very short time, what appeared to be half of Gryffindor Tower had hurried up. “Um, Professor Snape, sir, what can I do for you?” Oliver Wood, Quidditch team captain, had apparently been nominated as their spokesperson.

“Produce Potter,” he replied with both brevity and menace.

Wood swallowed. “Er, what do you want him for, Professor? I mean,” he quickly added, seeing Snape’s expression, “should I get Professor McGonagall? If Potter’s in some kind of trouble, then she should be notified…”

“I did not request your Head of House, merely Potter,” Snape pointed out, with rapidly dwindling patience. “Kindly produce him.”

“He’s gonna make him into potions!” came a frightened whisper from the crowd. “What if he’s planning to hand him over to Death Eaters?” came another. “Idiot! He is a Death Eater!” said another. “We can’t give Harry to him!” “Quick! Hide him!” “I told you he was extra-nasty to Potter.” “Has somebody gone for McGonagall?” “Get Harry back to his dorm!”

“Erm, does Harry have a detention with you?” Wood asked uncertainly.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for nosiness,” Snape snarled. His eyes caught a movement at the back of the crowd as if someone were trying to push their way through and being rebuffed. “And five points from anyone who blocks Potter’s path!”

As if by magic, the crowd parted and a flushed Harry could be seen at the back. He colored even brighter, then hurried forward.

Snape noted some of the students’ worried looks turning suspicious as Harry came forward willingly. He seized Harry by the scruff of the neck the instant he was within reach, and intoned, “Five points from Gryffindor for dawdling, Potter!”

“But, Professor, I wasn’t –“ Potter’s protest broke off with a squawk as Snape raised his arm, hoisting Harry onto his tiptoes and cutting off most of his air.

He spun around and stormed away, dragging Harry with him. Behind him, as the portrait closed, he could hear several comments, most of them containing the term “git”. Well, at least they were no longer angry with Potter.

As soon as he turned the corner, he released his hold on the boy. Harry dragged at his collar and looked at Snape, wide eyed.

“Do not argue when I am deducting points, you foolish child,” Snape scolded. “You will merely lose more for being rude.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry gulped. “But I wasn’t trying to dawdle. Honest! I just couldn’t get them to move.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Snape demanded, catching Harry by the shoulder and pulling him along. “Don’t I have eyes?”

“But – but if you know that, then why did you take away points?” Harry asked in bewilderment.

“Because your fellow Gryffindors were becoming suspicious of your compliance with my orders,” Snape retorted. “Your complacency in the face of their alarm was considered odd, and Gryffindors, being of little brain, do not like oddities.”

Harry pondered this as he trotted at Snape’s side. Finally working out the meaning, he frowned. “I don’t think Gryffindors are of little brain. Hermione Granger’s awfully smart.”

“Hm. A veritable Ravenclaw in lion’s skin,” Snape said sarcastically.

Harry chewed his lip. He couldn’t figure out why Snape wanted to talk with him. He hadn’t even had Potions class that day. The last time he’d actually spoken to Snape had been nearly a week ago, when he was still in the Infirmary.

Snape had come in and promptly been pulled into Pomfrey’s office. After a lengthy period, he had emerged with two bright spots of color on his cheekbones, while the medi-witch appeared grimly triumphant. She had ushered him over to Harry’s bedside and left the two of them with a final, “And I’ll be watching you, Severus!”

“Potter,” Snape had growled.

“Yes, sir?” Harry had been cautiously optimistic. Snape had made him a promise that he was fiercely hoping the man intended to keep. Just because he could hit as hard as Uncle Vernon didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep his promises… Did it?

“Potter. I owe you an apology,” Snape had said in a rather strangled tone.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. An apology? From a grown up? What for? What would Snape have to apologize to him for?

Oh, no! Was he apologizing because he couldn’t keep his promise? Was the Headmaster determined to expel Harry after all? It was true that his handwriting was awful and he didn’t really know any of the material like Granger did, nor even much about the Wizarding world, like Ron did, but he was trying really, really hard. It had only been a few days! Surely they’d let him try a little longer before deciding he really was a worthless freak?

But no, if Snape were apologizing then it must be because he couldn’t do the things he had promised about not being expelling Harry or returning him to the Dursleys.

“That’s okay, sir,” he said around the enormous, hot lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “It’s not your fault.” He blinked hard, forcing back his tears. No one liked a crybaby.

He just hoped that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t be too mad when he showed up again. Madame Pomfrey had just given him some awful tasting medicine that had healed all the welts and bruises on his bum as well as the cuts and lump on his head. He really didn’t want to get another thrashing now that he was finally feeling better.

“What are you talking about, Potter?” the professor demanded angrily. Here he was, actually apologizing to a student, and the little idiot was only half listening. How dare he say it wasn’t his fault! What was he suggesting, that Snape had been controlled by Voldemort’s ghost?

“ ‘S okay,” Harry insisted, hastily wiping at his eyes when the traitorous tears leaked out. “I know you tried. ‘S my fault. I should’ve worked harder.” Though in all honesty, he really didn’t know how he could have. He was already staying up late every night trying to do all the reading and work on his handwriting and learn about wizarding society. “It’ll be okay. They prob’ly won’t be that mad.” After all, his uncle’s last words to him had been, “They’re not going to like you any more than we do, you little freak!” Uncle Vernon would probably be pleased to have been proven right. That might save Harry from a beating for a day or two. Maybe longer, even, if he got right to work and painted the garden shed or something.

Snape ground his teeth in anger. What was the little brat babbling about? Why couldn’t he just accept the apology, gloat like his bastard father would have, and let him return to his dungeons? But no, now he was whimpering and sniveling and acting as if Snape had fired a stinging hex at him. Any second now Poppy would be storming over, and this time she probably would make good on her threat. Snape really didn’t want to see what a talented medi-witch considered “an appropriate punishment for child abusers”. How dare the little monster play up like this just to get Snape into more trouble? “Stop that whining at once, Potter!”

Then something the brat said caught his attention: “Who won’t be mad?” Dumbledore and the other staff were already mad at him, as the little creep must very well know. Why else would Poppy have hauled him bodily into her office as soon as he crossed the Infirmary’s threshold? If he hadn’t been so quick with a muffling spell, they would have heard her yelling at him all the way down in the Slytherin common room.

“My relatives,” Harry answered, surprised.

Snape scowled horribly. Did the wretch think that he could threaten Snape with his Muggle relatives’ displeasure? Would his dreadful uncle take exception to someone else using the boy as a punching bag? “What are you talking about? What do your relatives have to do with anything?”

“Wh-when you send me back. They didn’t think they’d have to see me again until next year. I just meant that –“

“What? Who’s sending you back to those Muggles?” Snape exploded. “Did the Headmaster say that-“

Bad move. As soon as he started yelling at the brat, Pomfrey flew out of her office. “Severus Snape! I warned you! Now –“

Rather more alarmed by her determined expression than he wanted to admit, Snape hurriedly pointed at Potter. “He said Albus is going to send him back to the Muggles!”

That distracted Poppy all right. “WHAT?” She was even louder and angrier than Snape. “HE SAID WHAT?”

Harry looked from one to the other, panicked. “No, no!” Somehow everyone was all confused, and he had a sinking feeling it was all his fault. Things usually were.

“ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, GET DOWN HERE!” Poppy stuck her head in the floo.

A moment later, the twinkling Headmaster appeared, only to be confronted by two irate staff members. “What do you mean, telling Harry he was going to return to his relatives?” Poppy demanded.

Dumbledore blinked. “What?”

Poppy turned to Snape, annoyed. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

Snape turned to confront the boy, only to find an empty bed behind him. “Where is that little monster?” he seethed.

“Ahem.” The Headmaster pointed.

Both Snape and Poppy crouched down and looked under the bed. In the far corner, Harry had curled into a small ball, only his frightened green eyes were visible above his knees. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please don’t be very mad.”

“Potter, get out here!” Snape snarled.

Poppy punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Mr Potter,” she said in much sweeter tones, “come here. No one will hurt you.”

Harry’s eyes flickered over to Snape and Poppy punched him again. “Get away!”

Affronted, Snape withdrew to nurse his sore shoulder. “Come on, Harry,” she wheedled. “No one will hurt you. Come to Poppy.”

To Snape’s secret delight, the witch’s coaxing was completely ineffectual. After a few minutes, she gave up in defeat. “What on earth is wrong with him? I promised him that he had nothing to fear…”

Albus twinkled at her. “Yes, my dear, but he had just seen you strike Severus. Twice. Quite firmly. I imagine he might have assumed that if you would hit a fellow teacher, you would be even more likely to strike a student.”

Poppy’s eyes grew wide with dismay. “Oh! I never thought of that! Albus, you try.”

The Headmaster stooped. “Harry, my boy, will you please come out here?”  No answer. “Harry? Please?” Nothing.

He straightened with a sigh. “It appears I have yet to earn the boy’s trust.”

Snape sneered. “Considering that he has you to thank for his living conditions for the last ten years, I think he shows remarkable perspicacity.” Ignoring Poppy’s scandalized look, he turned back to the bed. “Potter,” he said, once again crouching down. “Are you going to come out of there?”

“Are – are you very angry?” Potter gulped.

“I will be if you don’t get out from under the bed,” Snape retorted. “Hurry up!”

To Poppy’s shock, Potter crawled out from under the bed. He stood up, half-flinching, but didn’t jerk away when Snape picked him up and deposited him back on the bed.

“There.” Snape couldn’t resist sending a look of triumph at the disgruntled medi-witch.

“Harry,” she said, coming forward very slowly and tentatively. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes’m,” Harry acknowledged nervously. That’s what they all said, right? Well, not Snape. He’d never made such a ridiculous claim. That was why he could trust the man. When he was mad, he let you know it.  He didn’t lie or pretend.

“Why did you say the Headmaster was going to send you back to the Muggles?” Poppy asked gently.

Oh no. Not again. If there was one thing Harry really hated, it was being asked why he had said or done something he hadn’t. He knew better than to deny it, of course, but taking a punishment for something he hadn’t done always made him that much angrier inside. Still, there was nothing he could do. He forced down his fury at the injustice of his life. Getting mad or talking back would just make things worse for himself. “Sorry, ma’am.” He shut his eyes tight and hunched his shoulders, waiting for the first blow.

“Potter!” It was Snape again. He swallowed hard. He knew just how much a smack from the tall, dark man could hurt. “Look at me!” He didn’t want to open his eyes, he really didn’t, but he knew that he was just making them angrier. Uncle Vernon sometimes wanted you to see it coming, too. He forced his eyes open and glanced up warily through his fringe. The Potions professor was glaring at him, but his arms were crossed over his chest. Harry blinked. How was he going to hit him from that position?

Then Harry realized that Snape and the others had actually retreated a bit. No one was currently within arms reach, and Harry sat a little straighter.

“Potter,” Professor Snape was looking at him oddly. “When I said I was sorry, you replied that it wasn’t my fault.” Both the headmaster and the medi-witch looked at him in surprise. “Is that correct?”

Harry nodded immediately. This was a lot better. He might still end up getting hit, but at least it would be something he’d actually said.

“What did you mean?”

“J-just that I know you tried, sir. You had said you would. So I don’t blame you.”

“For what?” Snape pressed. There was something wrong here. Merlin, what was the boy talking about?

“For my getting expelled.”

Now both Snape and Pomfrey were staring at Dumbledore. “You expelled him?” the medi-witch breathed.

Even Snape was looking bewildered. There was no artifice in the boy. He truly believed he was expelled, and where would he have received such information but from the Headmaster? But why on earth would Albus do such a thing? Yes, the old coot played a very deep game, but to expel the boy? To remove him from one of the few places where he was safe from harm?

“Harry,” the headmaster stepped forward, and Harry flinched back. Okay, here it came. He still wasn’t sure what he had done, but obviously he just kept doing it. Dumbledore held out his hand, and Harry tried not to cower. They hated when you cowered.

“Lemon drop?” the Headmaster offered, and to his amazement, Harry realized that the man was holding a tin of candy in his hand.

He glanced nervously at the Headmaster and then at the other two. What was the right answer? But the old eyes were twinkling at him, and though they were sad, they seemed kind. Harry slowly reached forward, and when no one shouted at him or slapped his hand away, he carefully took one. “Thank you, sir,” he said politely. Even if they jeered at him and grabbed it back the next minute, he still had to be polite when anything was offered.

Just as slowly, he moved the candy to his lips, waiting for the snarl or the cuff, but they didn’t come and then the delicious lemony taste was filling his mouth. He couldn’t suppress a smile, and the Headmaster smiled back.

“Now then, Harry, I wonder if you can help me,” Albus said easily.

“I’ll try, sir,” Harry agreed. He looked over to Snape. Was that okay? The Potions Master was just standing there, glowering, but he didn’t seem any angrier than usual, which meant Harry probably hadn’t done anything stupid. Yet.

“It seems that there is a little confusion here,” the Headmaster continued. “What makes you think you have been expelled?”

“You mean, I haven’t?” Harry asked, confused.

“Answer the Headmaster’s question, Potter!” Snape snapped, and Harry jumped.

“Yes, sir!” he gulped. “Sorry, sir!” He looked at the Headmaster, and although the old man didn’t look angry, he still scooted back just a bit. After all, Snape was pretty big and scary, but even he listened to the Headmaster, That must mean that the Headmaster was even more powerful, and hadn’t he been the one to send Harry to the Dursleys in the first place? Obviously he wouldn’t think twice about sending him back to them.

“You were telling me why you thought you had been expelled,” Dumbledore prompted gently.

“Because Professor Snape apologized, sir,” Harry explained.

“And that apology was because…”

“He couldn’t keep his promise, sir. He had promised that I wouldn’t be expelled, so…” Harry trailed off. He could tell that something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Harry, did Professor Snape actually say that he couldn’t keep that promise?”

“N-no, sir,” Harry admitted. “But what else would he have to apologize for?”

Poppy let out an odd noise, halfway between a sob and a snort, and left abruptly. Albus merely patted Harry’s foot under the blanket for a few moments. “I see.” He patted some more.

Harry looked from the Headmaster to the professor. Snape was scowling as if he was about to explode, while the Headmaster looked very old and sad. “Sir? I’m sorry,” he offered. He still had no idea what he’d done wrong, but an apology was usually a good idea.

“Potter, stop apologizing!” Professor Snape snapped. Okay, maybe not such a good idea after all.

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir,” Harry replied automatically, then realized what he had done. “Sor-“ he cut himself off before he did it again.

Dumbledore chuckled softly, though it didn’t sound like he thought anything was very funny. “I see you have your work cut out for you, my boy.” He rose to his feet, gave Harry’s foot one last pat, then placed the tin of lemon drops on the bed. “For you, Harry.”

Then he was left alone again with Professor Snape. “Sir? I’m – “ Harry thought better of apologizing again. “Um, what did I do wrong?” he asked. He knew it wouldn’t excuse him from punishment, but maybe if he knew what he’d done, he could avoid doing it in the future.

Snape frowned at him. “Be still, Potter. Just listen.”

Harry obediently straightened up and looked attentive. “You are not being expelled, Potter. I meant what I said about your not going back to those relatives. You will not live with them again. Ever.” Harry’s eyes flared with hope and Severus caught his breath. Lily looked out at him, and he had to fight to keep control of his voice.

“You are staying here at Hogwarts, and even if you were to do something so egregious as to require expulsion – which is hard to imagine, given the current Headmaster – even then you would not return to those disgusting Muggles. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He got to stay! He got to stay!

“My apology to you was for the injuries I caused you yesterday,” Snape continued. “I should not have struck you in that fashion, and I apologize.” Now why was the child frowning at him? That had been a very nice apology – even Minerva would have been impressed. “What?” he demanded, aggrieved.

“Why are you apologizing for that?” Harry asked blankly. He’d misbehaved in class, messed up his lines, and tried to leave detention early. Why was the professor apologizing for punishing him?

Snape stared at him. Was the boy trying to be funny? But no, even without Legilimency, it was clear that Harry genuinely saw nothing wrong with how he’d been treated.

“We will discuss that at a later time,” he temporized. “For now, you will merely accept my word that it was inappropriate.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said obediently.

“Continue your recuperation,” Snape instructed, his voice once again coldly formal. “We will talk after you are feeling better.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

And now Snape had pulled him from his dorm – presumably to have that postponed talk? At least that’s what Harry hoped. He didn’t think he was in trouble… But then again, there were plenty of times when he’d made that mistake. Better to check.

“Sir, am I in trouble?” he asked, trying not to sound nervous.

“Do you know something I should?” Severus asked drily.

“No, sir!” Harry assured him, shaking his head vigorously.

“Very well. Step through,” Snape instructed, opening a portrait with a muttered password. Harry obeyed and found himself in a large sitting room. Tea and biscuits awaited on a low table.

“Sit down, Potter,” Severus pointed to the couch, and Harry tentatively obeyed. This was a little odd. Why was he in what had to be the professor’s private quarters?

The next moment, the fireplace roared, and Professor McGonagall’s head appeared in the flames. “Severus? Do you have – Ah. Mr Potter, you are there.”

“Yes’m,” Harry answered obediently.

“Severus, perhaps you could explain why half my Tower came rushing to my office to inform me that you had abducted Mr Potter and were likely in the process of disemboweling him?”

“Perhaps because your students are insolent, disrespectful idiots who have read too many heroic epics?”

 “Severus Snape, there is no call for such rudeness!” Minerva, annoyingly, used the same tone on him as she did on her little lions, and Severus heard a muffled giggle behind him. He shot a look promising instant death to the brat on the couch, and Harry hastily hid behind his teacup.

“I went to fetch Potter and your students instantly assumed I was up to no good. Are they always this prone to paranoid fantasies? I had thought such ideation was largely confined to my House.”

She smirked back at him. “Only where you are involved, Severus. I shall reassure them as to Mr Potter’s continued good health.”

“You had also best award points to them for whatever euphemism you use to refer to mindless bravado masquerading as overprotectiveness, or Mr Potter may be criticized for his part in bringing me to your doorstep,” Snape added reluctantly. It hurt – oh, how it hurt! – to even contemplate awarding points to Gryffindor, but he did not want the brat to get off to a bad start with his Housemates. He knew too well what it was like to have to make it through seven years at Hogwarts without the friendship and support of your House.

Minerva was obviously taken aback, but then her gaze shifted to over his shoulder and her expression softened. “You are a good man, Severus Snape,” she said unexpectedly. Before Severus could comment acidly upon this new habit of spouting non sequitars, she returned her gaze to him. “I think twenty points for protecting a Housemate should do it.”

“Fifteen would be more than sufficient!” Snape retorted. “Ten, even, considering the rude comments that were made about my personal hygiene.”

That prompted another giggle behind him, quickly converted to a cough.

“Thank you for the suggestion, Severus. You’ll see that Mr Potter is returned safely?”

“No, Minerva,” he snapped. “I will turn him loose to wander the corridors until he is either captured by Filch or eaten by Fluffy.”

“Sarcasm is most unnecessary,” she sniffed and, with a final nod to Harry, withdrew.

Harry kept his eyes firmly focused on his tea. Maybe he would get away with the snickers. Maybe Professor Snape hadn’t actually heard him. Maybe…

“Did you find that amusing, Potter?”

He looked up, scared. “Sorry, sir!” But looking closely at the man, Harry realized Snape wasn’t that upset. Oh, he was still scowling, but he was always scowling. His eyes weren’t snapping, though. If anything, they almost looked a little, well, resigned. But that couldn’t be right, could it? “I’m sorry, sir.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Now what are you apologizing for, Potter?”

“Um, for being here?”

“I brought you here, Potter. Did you forget that little fact?”

“No, I meant for being here when Professor McGonagall said that stuff. She, erm, she kinda treats you like a student sometimes, doesn’t she?”

Snape growled, but Harry didn’t think it was aimed at him. “Never take a teaching position at your alma mater, Potter. Not unless there has been a complete staff changeover.”

“Um, yes, sir,” Harry agreed obediently. Poor Professor Snape, no wonder he had to be so snarky all the time. It wasn’t just that students were likely to blow up half the castle if they didn’t listen to him, it was that the other teachers didn’t show him much respect either. Harry knew what it was like to be the odd man out. He gave Snape a sympathetic look.

Snape frowned. What was that for? The brat’s expression was almost friendly. How could this urchin feel anything for Snape but dread and loathing?

“Potter, we need to talk about your future,” he announced sternly.

Harry felt his stomach lurch. He trusted Snape that he wouldn’t have to return to the Dursleys, but then where would he go? An orphanage? Could he still attend Hogwarts and just return to the orphanage during hols? He watched the professor fearfully.

Snape frowned in thought as he sat down opposite the brat. He had had a brilliant idea after talking to the Weasleys. If Harry objected to Snape’s nomination as his guardian, surely Dumbledore wouldn’t insist. The old coot seemed genuinely distraught at the boy’s past treatment, so if Harry threw a fit at the notion of Severus being his guardian, the Headmaster couldn’t possibly force yet another hated adult upon the boy.

So all Severus had to do was to present the plan to Potter, wait for the brat to start screaming, and then summon Albus. Snape could hardly be blamed if the young Gryffindor didn’t want the Greasy Git to be his guardian, and Albus would just have to reopen his search for an appropriate parent. He nearly smirked. Perhaps the Headmaster would pick on Minerva. He could just see the old witch’s expression the first time Potter hid under the bed. Or maybe Dumbledore would take the boy on himself? But no, Severus remembered with more than a hint of gratification, Harry had made it abundantly clear he didn’t trust the Headmaster.

“Potter, as I said before, you will not be returning to your Muggle relatives,” Snape began, passing the boy the biscuits. Might as well start off slow and easy and let Dumbledore see that he had tried to ingratiate himself. It wasn’t his fault if Harry was a Gryffindor through and through and would never accept a Slytherin’s supervision.

“Thank you, sir!” From the expression of joy in the boy’s eyes, Severus assumed he wasn’t merely expressing appreciation for the food.

“Their treatment of you was unacceptable, and –“ The brat started to speak but then obviously thought better of it. Snape sighed. This timidity would get old very quickly. Not that he wanted the boy to inherit his father’s arrogant ways, but to see a Potter cringe was strangely upsetting. “What is it, Potter? Ask your question.”

“Well, I was just wondering what it was that they did that was wrong. Not that I want to go back!” he added hastily. “But… why am I being taken away now? Was it because of the letter?”

Snape frowned. “What letter?”

“The Hogwarts letter. Was it because they wouldn’t let me answer it? Is interfering with the owl mail a really bad thing?”

Snape frowned at the boy’s innocence. This was rather alarming. What was next? Excuse me, sir, but how do you know Death Eaters are evil? I mean, they don’t actually wear signs that say so. Are we sure they mean to kill me? Maybe I should strike up a conversation with them when we meet, rather than put up a shield, just to be sure.  Potter would have the life expectancy of a housefly if someone didn’t teach him some simple facts of life.

“No, you absurd child. What they did wrong was to beat you and starve you and call you names and lie to you. They are disgusting, evil creatures who took out their frustrations on a child.”

Harry blinked. “But…”

“What?” This half-starting a comment then biting it back would drive Snape mad. Good thing he wouldn’t be dealing with the brat much longer.

“But they’ve been doing all that for forever!” Harry burst out. “So why didn’t I get taken away sooner?”

Ah. Maybe he wasn’t such an idiot after all. Severus considered. What should he say? He did feel a loyalty to Dumbledore, and he knew that Potter’s mistrust hurt the old man deeply. On the other hand, he found it hard to believe that the ancient wizard’s decision to place Potter with the Dursleys had been quite as innocent an error as it appeared. What if Dumbledore had known exactly what kind of home life Potter would have and yet still went ahead and placed him there for reasons of his own? If Snape knew one thing from his spying activities, it was that Dumbledore would put people in harm’s way if he felt it was for the greater good. If he were convinced that having Harry grow up in an abusive, unloving home would make him a better weapon against Voldemort, would Albus have hesitated? Snape honestly didn’t know.

In the end, he said the only thing he knew to be true. “As soon as I learned of your situation, Potter, I took steps to end it.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and then he nodded. There was a look in his eye that Severus didn’t recognize, but he dismissed it as unimportant and continued.

“As I have said, you will not be returning to the Muggles. However, you are obviously too young to be on your own, so a new home and guardian must be found for you.”

“Could I go live with Ron?” Harry asked, then quickly clapped his hand over his mouth. He knew better than to interrupt.

Snape ignored the gesture. “I have already spoken with Mr Weasley’s parents. They have invited us to dinner tomorrow to discuss your spending some time with them every holiday.” Harry’s eyes were shining with delight. “I would suggest you not speak of this to your schoolmates yet, as it is not settled. You must first meet Mr and Mrs Weasley and see how you get along.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But even if all goes well, the Weasleys will not be adopting you.” Snape almost felt badly as he watched Harry’s face crumple. He was oddly compelled to explain quickly, almost as if he cared about the boy’s distress, but that could hardly be the case. After all, he was the horrible, nasty, Death Eating Potion Master. He didn’t care if a student was in tears. But he still went on rapidly. “The Weasleys have a large family and are happy to extend it to encompass you. But you require more than a seat at a dinner table. You also need a family of your own. One that will not be distracted by the competing needs of other children. So you will have a guardian who will be focused on you, and you will also have the opportunity to spend time in a family setting with the Weasleys. Do you understand?”

Harry’s sadness had magically evaporated. “You mean I get two families?”

Snape considered. “I suppose you could phrase it that way.”

“Wow!”

“Yes, well…” Snape cleared his throat. “With regards to who your guardian will be –“ Here it came. He mentally prepared himself for the tantrum and made sure the floo powder was handy. He would need to contact Dumbledore while the brat was in full hysterics.

“Could it be you?” Harry’s voice was so soft Snape wasn’t sure he had really spoken.

“What!”

Harry ducked his head. Stupid! He was so stupid! How could he have just blurted it out? He should have known better than to ask something like that. Now Professor Snape would be furious with him. Why would someone like Snape want a freak like Harry? It wasn’t like Harry was a member of his House, even. He was just one of the professor’s Potions students, along with practically every other kid at Hogwarts.

Harry peeked through his fringe and hurriedly dropped his gaze. Oh yeah, Snape was mad all right. He had that wide eyed, maniacal expression that he’d had just before he’d clouted Harry last time. Harry surreptitiously curled his fingers around his seat cushion, hoping that it would help to anchor him if he got hit again.

“What did you say?”

Harry gulped. “I’m sorry. It was really rude of me to ask that.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you could be my guardian,” Harry said in the lowest voice he could manage and braced himself. He stared at the floor, preferring to be surprised by the blow rather than have to see the look of revulsion he was certain the professor wore.

Snape blinked in utter shock. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this taken by surprise. Well, except for the night he’d learned about Harry’s home life. Why was it that this annoying brat kept shocking him? He was supposed to be unshockable, unmovable, unfeeling. Yet this irritating child kept sneaking through his shields.

“Why would you want me to be your guardian?” he demanded. He was pleased to note that the bewilderment came out sounding like anger.

Harry wouldn’t raise his gaze. He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“Answer my question,” Snape commanded sharply.

Harry wasn’t sure if his not yet being hit or sneered at was a good sign or a bad one. He knew Snape wouldn’t agree to his request – when was the last time Harry ever got something he had asked for? – but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could explain so that the man would at least feel a bit flattered, rather than repulsed. “Y-you’re nice.”

“Potter! I am not nice!” It was as if he had accused the man of some truly vile practice.

“You were nice to me,” Harry said stubbornly. “No one else is. Well, except for Hagrid or Ron. And you already said I’m going to spend time with the Weasleys, and Hagrid, well, I don’t think he’d be a good guardian. He’s a great friend an’ all, but I don’t think he’s really, y’know…”

Snape smothered a snort of amusement. Well, the boy wasn’t a complete dunce. He obviously had Hagrid figured out.

“Go on.”

“And you haven’t lied to me. And everyone says you’re really smart. And no one ever picks on you, so maybe if you were my guardian, no one would pick on me, either.” Harry’s voice trailed off and he slumped in despair. Good one, Harry. Of all the things you could have said, you had to pick one that shows how needy and desperate you are. Of course he’ll choose you now. Who wouldn’t want such a useless, whiny little freak?

Snape suddenly found it hard to swallow. The scrawny, dark haired child, huddled so forlornly in the corner of the sofa, had brought back an unexpected surge of memories. Wanting desperately to belong, needing protection, craving someone – anyone – to show him some caring… And of course, receiving nothing but violence from all sides: his father, the Marauders. So much for Hogwarts being a sanctuary. Yes, it had spared him the worst of his father’s excesses, but it hadn’t exactly offered safety, not when he was constantly ambushed and mocked, without even friendly housemates to defend him. Little wonder he had fallen prey to the blandishments of the Dark Lord. Though of course, in the end, he turned out to be yet another sadistic, violent tormentor.

Snape forced down his emotions with brutal efficiency. This wasn’t about him. It was about the Potter spawn… Though he didn’t really look like a spawn all huddled over like that. More like some pathetic, broken… Stop. Stop right there. You are getting ridiculously sentimental, he told himself firmly. What difference is it to you if James Potter’s son has had as awful a childhood as you did? Why should you care if – and then the child looked up, and Lily’s eyes begged him.

“Yes.” He nearly looked around to see who had spoken. That couldn’t have been him, could it?